Act 2, Scene 2
Clindor, a young picaresque hero, has been living by his wits in Paris, but has now drifted to Bordeaux, to become the valet of a braggart bravo named Matamore. He is chiefly employed as a go-between, carrying Matamore’s amorous messages to the beautiful Isabelle-who only suffers the master because she is in love with the messenger.
clindor
Sir, why so restless? Is there any need,
With all your fame, for one more glorious deed?
Have you not slain enough bold foes by now,
And must you have fresh laurels for your brow?
matamore
It’s true, I’m restless, and I can’t decide
Which of two foes should first be nullified-
The Mogul emperor or the Persian Sophy.
clindor
Ah, let them live a while, Sir. Neither trophy
Would add a great deal to your fame and standing.
And where’s the army that you’d be commanding?
matamore
Army? Ah, villain, coward, do you doubt
That with this arm alone I’d wipe them out?
The mere sound of my name makes ramparts yield,
And drives divisions from the battlefield;
My wrath against these rulers needs engage
Only a piddling portion of my rage;
With one commandment given to the Fates
I oust the strongest monarchs from their states;
Thunder’s my cannon; my troops, the Destinies;
One blow lays low a thousand enemies;
One breath, and all their hopes go up in smoke.
Yet you dare speak of armies! What a joke!
No longer shall a second Mars employ you;
With but a glance, you rogue, I shall destroy you …
And yet the thought of her whom I adore
Softens me now, and I’m enraged no more;
That little archer, whom every God obeys,
Forbids my eyes to glare with lethal rays.
Observe how my ferocity, which hates
And hacks and slaughters, gently dissipates
When I recall my lady, and my face
Is changed by thoughts of beauty, love, and grace.
clindor
Oh, Sir, you have a hundred selves or more;
You’re as handsome now as you were grim before.
I can’t imagine any lady who
Could stubbornly refuse her heart to you.
matamore
Whatever I may have said, feel no alarm:
Sometimes I terrify, sometimes I charm;
Depending on my humor, I inspire
Men with anxiety, women with desire.
Before I had the power to suppress
My beauty, women gave me much distress:
When I appeared, they swooned in quantity,
And thousands died each day for love of me.
With every princess I had many a tryst,
And every queen came begging to be kissed;
The Ethiopian and the Japanese
Murmured my name in all their sighs and pleas.
Two sultanesses could not but adore me,
Two more escaped from the seraglio f
(Pierre Corneille)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Mind Poems, Sadness Poems, Faces Poems, Youth Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Beauty Poems, Woman Poems, Power Poems, Anger Poems, Fame PoemsBased on Keywords: stubbornly, ethiopian, valet, mogul, ferocity, bordeaux, dissipates, oust, go-between, sophy, seraglio